


a Crown of Holly and Oak

by Madcap_Miss



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae Jack Frost, Fire Elemental Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, M/M, Magical Races, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23353945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madcap_Miss/pseuds/Madcap_Miss
Summary: Hiccup held himself still with an effort of supreme will. His fingers twitched with urge to fidget, but he didn’t dare even breathe too deeply in case he somehow disrupted the slow sweep of Gothi’s brush over his bare back. Gods forbid anything prolong the whole ordeal. It had been over an hour already, the anticipation in his chest long having morphed to nervous dread and the sprawling chains of runes already painted across his shoulders and chest had dried more than enough to itch. Trader Johann had once told Hiccup that there were people beyond the ocean who called on magic only through rituals, but he wasn't sure if he could believe that anymore. If using magic were always this drawn out and complicated why would anyone ever use it regularly?
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilverlySilence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverlySilence/gifts).



Hiccup held himself still with an effort of supreme will. His fingers twitched with urge to fidget, but he didn’t dare even breathe too deeply in case he somehow disrupted the slow sweep of Gothi’s brush over his bare back. Gods forbid anything prolong the whole ordeal. It had been over an hour already, the anticipation in his chest long having morphed to nervous dread and the sprawling chains of runes already painted across his shoulders and chest had dried more than enough to itch. Trader Johann had once told Hiccup that there were people beyond the ocean who called on magic only through rituals, but he wasn't sure if he could believe that anymore. If using magic were always this drawn out and complicated why would anyone ever use it regularly? There was a reason that volva were so highly respected, and it had far less to do with their power than it did their patience. 

Trying to distract himself from both his restlessness and the steadily brightening sky, he squinted at the ritual circle carved into the stone at his feet. It was difficult to make out in the weak light of daybreak, but he could still read the cardinal runes. Guidance, wholeness, loyalty, and entreaty. He lingered on that last, a spike of nausea clawing at his gut. Hiccup had never felt ill or shaky from sheer nerves before but this was important. He'd only get one chance at this and there were no guarantees in the bonding ritual.

There was always the chance that his bondmate wasn’t interested in looking for him. It wasn’t exactly common for a bond to be rebuffed, but it was hardly unheard of. Some people didn’t like the idea of anything, even magic itself, having such a deep influence over their relationships. And while it wasn't usually talked about, some people decided in that moment of connection as a new bond formed that the person on the other end was…undesirable. 

No one outright said it, but Hiccup knew very well that the tribe wasn’t holding out much hope for his bond taking. He just wasn't what most people hoped for in a bondmate. Too small, too skinny, too reckless, always getting into trouble. Needless to say, most of them were a bit skeptical Even Gobber had asked him if he’d thought about putting it off a few years, growing into himself a bit more before he tossed the bones.  
That had stung. Hiccup knew he meant well of course, the bonding ritual was dangerous in more ways than one and most people actually waited until their late teens to attempt it, or even passed it up altogether. It was fairly rare for someone to undergo it at fourteen summers, much less the same week as the season's turn.

But Hiccup had to know. He had to take the chance. If there was someone out there who not only could, but would stand with him despite all his awkwardness and screw-ups how could he not at least try to find them? How could anyone pass up the chance to know their bonded?

Of course it was a lot easier to hold to that determination in the safety of a noon forge than it was alone with Gothi in the heart of Berk’s little shrine. He was lost in a half-manic retracing of exactly why he’d decided to go through with this as soon as he came of age when Gothi thumped him lightly over the head with her staff.

It was only the last couple hours of concentrating on not moving that kept him from jumping at the unexpected strike. Feeling almost dazed, he turned his head just slightly to glance down at the hunched elder, who must have finished minutes ago if the itch of dry paint on his back was anything to go by. She gave him a soft-edged look and nodded pointedly toward the horizon. The sun was just beginning to crest over the Cloud Sea, and while there wasn’t much of a sea today the sunrise still stained the tops of the few clouds present a burning gold. A sharper spike of breathless dread surged through his veins. It was now or never.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the III was a disappointment to his tribe in many ways, but he had never been a coward. Blowing out a sharp breath through his nose, he squared his thin shoulders and walked forward into the circle. A last glance down at the carving beneath his feet, and he opened his magic to the world around him.

And was instantly driven to his knees.

Gods it HURT.

It was like all the world was screaming at him in a thousand different voices, like molten iron being poured into his veins, like a spring river gorged on snow-melt being funneled down his throat.  
It went on and on and Hiccup was drowning in the chaotic heaving tumult of life and death and growth and decay all around him. His mind had long since shut down in self defense and he could feel himself being stretched, spread, shattered, scattered, lost among all the howling life he’d so blindly opened himself up to and oh gods make it s T o P he couldn’t-

Silence. Something silvery/sweet/soothing catching his battered spirit, wrapping around him with indescribable softness and buffering him from storm. The relief of it was so sharp it was almost a new pain in and of itself, but he had no time to dwell on it.  
He couldn’t have explained it, no one ever could afterwards, but Hiccup knew who it was that sheltered him. He couldn’t have said their name, couldn’t have picked them out of a crowd, but he felt the essence of what and who they were resonating in his bones. A connection flickered to wakefulness in the center of his magic, barely tangible but full of potential.

Almost without thought he reached back along the connection and felt his bondmate reach back, their magic twining with his own as their tentative bond strengthened and deepened, thickening from a hair to a thread to a heavy cord as soft as silk and stronger than iron. Through it he could feel a bubbling rush of surprise/joy/welcome, like his bondmate was trying to overwhelm him with sheer delight at Hiccup's presence. Instinctively Hiccup sent back his own wonder and elation.

A breath, or maybe an eternity later, Hiccup slammed back into his mortal existence choking on his own breath with agonized tears soaking his cheeks and a thousand fire-sprites fluttering in his chest. There was a flutter of gold at the edges of his vision, and a familiar shivering whisper in his ear as the wind toyed with the newly appeared circlet resting on his brow. Still feeling slow and shaky he barely managed to process that he was crowned with aspen of all things, and what did that even mean before Gothi was there, peering seriously into his eyes and laying a hand on chest to check his heartbeat.

The young viking stared back at her, still feeling like someone had replaced his thoughts with cold honey. Distantly he wondered if he shouldn’t be feeling more…well more. He felt oddly muffled, his head far too quiet for what had just happened. Gothi didn’t seem too concerned, but she did do this fairly regularly and-

He lost his rather laborious train of thought as he registered a faint pulse in his right hand, soft as a hummingbirds wings and almost as fast, but reassuring all the same. Green eyes snapped down to his hand. An elegantly inked compass as beautiful as something out of a fairy story spread across the back of his hand, with an opalescent silver snowflake nestled gently at it’s center. It’s needle pointed unerringly eastward, shifting to maintain it’s direction no matter how he tilted his hand.

Hiccup stared, entranced as much by the feather-light sensation of his bondmates heartbeat as the mark moving across his skin. “I. I did it. It worked.”

When he passed out, it was with an exultant grin burning on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack knew something was off long before he managed to pry his eyes open. It was the silence that did it. The forest was never so quiet, day or night. Daytime was always bright with the bustle of village life, and nights were filled with the crackle of the banked hearth and his sisters sleepy mumbling. Even the stillness that fell out in the open forest when danger was near was never so absolute; you could always hear the soft rustling of leaves, the creak of branches, the shallow breaths of whatever people or creatures were nearby.   
Here the only sound was Jack's own breathing. 

Beyond that his body felt weirdly stiff and sluggish. Trying to shift his arms took a concentrated effort and even his eyes felt too heavy to open, not to mention how rough the pallet felt against the bare skin of torso. Distantly he wondered if he'd been sick. Yren had had a fever that left her bed-ridden for a whole fortnight last spring and when she'd finally woken she'd been clumsy as a new fawn for three days. Maybe that was why he couldn't hear Mom and Flee sleeping nearby. If he'd been sick they would have had to be careful not to catch whatever he had, which would mean sleeping elsewhere in the village until he was well.

It took him another few minutes to wrestle his sleep-sticky eyes open, only to be met by darkness. He waited for his vision to clear, for the darkness to resolve into shapes and outlines. It didn't happen. He strained to make out the glow of a banked fire against the far wall of the house. Nothing. Just an unbroken blackness. Jack's breath caught as the first slivers of fear crept into his mind. He couldn't have gone blind. Only the worst fevers did that, the ones that came on the heels of plague and rot. His eyes were fine it was just...just really dark, that was all. 

Reaching for the magic twining through his veins Jack thought of light. He reached for the thick gold of sunlight, the soft silver of stars, the welcoming flicker of hearth fires and candles. There was a long moment where he refused to blink. Then a ball of thin bluish light bloomed a handspan from his face, and even the sharp sting of its light against his dark-adjusted eyes couldn't dampen the rush of giddy relief that flooded his chest.

Reassured that he still had his sight, Jack let out a half-strangled sound that was some crossbreed of sigh and laugh before focusing on wrestling his rebellious limbs back into order. Eventually he managed to lever himself into a sitting position, looking around at what little of his surroundings the weak light revealed. And promptly stiffened as he processed what he was seeing. 

He wasn't at home. He wasn't in anyone else's home. He wasn't in any sort of building at all.

There was nothing to see but the ground underneath him; bare, dry earth free of any plant growth. It seemed like he was in some sort of cave, and not one that regularly saw human visitors either. The only man-made item he could see was sad heap of fabric near his legs. When he picked it up he was alarmed to find that it was his shirt, covered in odd stains with the front torn from neckline to hem. The poor thing looked so battered he wasn't sure even his mother would be able to save it, but he twisted it into a roll and tied it around his waist just in case. 

Jack looked around for any other signs of who might have brought him here, but he couldn't see so much as a footprint in the weak light his little wisp was giving off. That didn't make sense though. He was sure he hadn't come here on his own, and even if he had there was no way he would have survived unconscious, sick, and alone in a cave if someone hadn't been with him.

Frowning in confusion he tried to stand up and almost instantly his head slammed painfully into something hard. Jack crashed back to the ground with yelp of pained surprise, twisting to stare up at the half shadowed ceiling above him. It was very low, barely a foot above his head when he was sitting, and laced with a veritable thatch of what looked like heavy tree roots. More importantly, it curved down in a worryingly close arch. 

He stared up at it for a long moment before willing his wisp to brighten. It strengthened obligingly to reveal not a cave, but a large hollow of rough earth veined with thick roots. Jack felt his mouth go dry, staring with wide eyes at the close walls surrounding him. "Ok, that's. That's probably not good." 

Shifting into a half-crouch with a hand pressed to his still stinging skull, Jack tried to push through the odd fogginess of his thoughts for the last thing he remembered before waking up. It was strangely difficult, his thoughts almost slippery and hard to grasp. He kept catching hold of one only to realize that it wasn't as recent as he'd first though.

It had been snowing? No it was already spring. Summer? No only almost, Flee had been begging to go berrying, but it wasn't the season yet... Mom was working on a deer hide for Taran. She'd been staying out at the tanning pits until sunset every day working on it, so he and Flee had decided to make dinner before she got home as a surprise. Someone had come to the cabin door and-

The Imperii. The Imperii had been in the village. 

He'd opened the door to a man in shining armor with green eyes, who chivied him and Flee out of the house. His memories after that were weirdly indistinct and blurry with singular moments standing out in sharp relief. Other armored men herding the rest of the villagers out of the buildings. Old man Erek arguing with one of them, chin up and refusing to be cowed by the blade at the man's side. He must have lost some time (or at least the memory of it) after that because the next thing he could clearly remember was screaming, Imperii clashing with Imperii in a whirl of swords and blood. Circles of strange runes drawn in cold light blossoming in the air, casting eldritch shadows in the dim forest evening. Grimly silent clansmen all trying to bolt in different directions. Yren being cut down by a flash of sharp-edge light, her mouth open in a breathless scream. Flee's hand shaking in his as they ran towards the deeper forest. An Imperii lashing out at her as they ran by. Desperately throwing himself between them, pain, small hands scrabbling at his shoulder. She had been so scared-

Jack felt his heart stop. Flee wasn't with him. 

Almost before he finished the thought Jack flung himself at the wall of the hollow, running his hands frantically along the edges of the roots, prodding at the deeper shadows, desperately trying to find an opening. Nothing so much as shifted. Angrily he slammed a hand into the dirt, hissing under his breath. Well that solved one question. It definitely wasn't any of his clan who'd left him sleeping here; they'd never have separated him and Flee after an attack like that.

So. So that meant that the Imperii must have taken him then. He couldn't think why they would want him, but it did happen. Roving groups of Imperii sometimes taking people back to the coast, or those who wandered a little too close to their strongholds just not coming back one day. Sometimes you'd see those people again in Imperii armor and talking about how the Imperii were here to help the clans if only they'd listen. Other times they were just gone, never heard from again. 

Jack wasn't particularly interested in either option. He didn't have much to work with if he wanted to escape - nothing but his breeches, magic, and whatever might still be stuffed in his pockets - but fortunately the Imperii had left him a chance to call for help. Setting his jaw he pressed his hands against the two thickest roots he could reach and closed his eyes. Letting out a long breath, he sent a questioning ripple of magic to whatever tree reached his little prison. The eager thrum of greeting he received back all but instantly was louder and livelier than he'd _ever_ heard from any tree.

Taken aback, he returned the greeting and tentatively inquired if the tree would be willing to help him reach someone who could get him out from underneath its very impressive roots. He'd barely made the request when the two beneath his hand SLID APART, the earth between them flowing back and away like water until the pale light of dawn flooded down the newly formed tunnel. 

Jack stared, hands still hovering in the air as his own blue light died away. "Uh. Thanks?"   
Shaking off the shock of a tree actually willing to bestir itself to move, he scrambled into the tunnel. The faster he was gone the better. The tunnel was very narrow and he had to work to squeeze through it, staying low to keep from hitting his head again and scraping his shoulders painfully against the sides more often than not. Twice he caught his back on something in the ceiling and had to yank himself free, but eventually he tumbled out into open air. 

To his surprise it wasn't the open hills of the coast or the square stone of the Imperii settlements that met his eyes. Instead he found himself sprawled on his belly in a familiar combination of fallen leaves, moss, and ferns. He was still in the forest. Above him rustled the very tree whose roots had cradled his hollow, its thick branches heavy with the fierce reddish-orange leaves of autumn.

That...that made no sense, it wasn't even summer yet. Staying low and still for the moment, he peered cautiously at his new surroundings. It seemed safe enough. There were no signs of Imperii trampling the ground plants and the morning birds were calling easily to each other. He couldn't see or hear anything disturbing the usual peaceful quiet of a forest morning. 

So maybe it was his mother who had left him under the Oak? After an attack like that the clan might have decided to move deeper into the forest, and if he'd been injured badly enough in the attack that they couldn't follow yet she would have had to find a safe place for the three of them to shelter until he healed...

"Flee? Mom?"

Jack firmly ignored the dangerous wavering of his voice as he called out. Drawing attention to himself like this without being sure that there weren't Imperii or even more common predators nearby probably wasn't his best idea, but he couldn't help it. In the end it didn't matter either way. His cry went unanswered, swallowed up by the indifferent calm of dawn. 

Jack glanced back at the old oak behind him, half wondering if he should try asking it for help again, but turned away in the end. Trees were slow, rooted things that rarely took notice of the mortals passing beneath their branches. Even if this one was incredibly lively it was unlikely it would have noticed anything recent enough to give Jack any clues about what had happened to him. Trees perceived the world in terms of seasons, years, and decades after all. Not hours, days, and weeks. 

With his mind half made-up to start a search for his missing family Jack went to shove himself up from his sprawl. And screeched in surprise when there was a sudden rush of motion behind him. With an abrupt sense of stretching-flexing-pulling all along his back he found himself dragged off the ground and into the air. Utterly blindsided, Jack kicked out wildly and flailed behind him to dislodge whatever had grabbed him. The sensations abruptly stopped and he found himself plummeting back to the forest floor just as quickly as he'd been dragged away from it. 

  
Adrenaline still rushing in his veins Jack tried to scramble away from whatever was behind him but that wash of color was still hovering close in his peripheral vision, so he shot a wild-eyed look over his shoulder to try and see what it was-

Froze. 

Rising from his back was a pair of massive wings, their semi-translucent panes shimmering in a thousand shades of blue. He stared. They shivered and he felt it in his back. Jack swallowed hard and reached back to run tentative fingers over the edge of one. He nearly flinched at the familiar mirrored sensation of touching one of his own limbs. After a long pause he tried consciously flexing them and got a sharp flutter that half-lifted him off the ground and sent him skidding across the little clearing in uncontrolled loops.

Yelping at the sudden lurch of movement Jack scrambled to keep his feet under him as he tried in a desperate bid to maintain his balance. The wings didn't stop beating until his feet managed to catch up with the rest of him, but even then he had to stumble a few steps to keep his momentum from tossing him back to the forest floor. Apparently satisfied with that fiasco, the wings folded themselves neatly down along his back and legs in an odd mimicry of the sweep of a cloak. Jack whirled in a quick circle, craning his neck to stare down his back at them. 

"What in the name of root and river is going on?" 

* * *

Several minutes later Jack had finally stopped looking over his shoulder every few seconds. He felt weirdly caught between panic and delight. He could definitely fly now, they had lifted him surprisingly easily earlier. But he was also fairly sure it wasn't a good sign when you woke up with extra limbs. Doing his best to put it out of his mind for now he slipped out from under the sheltering branches of the oak.

It was standing on the edge of an odd spot of new growth among the older trees. Younger trees and saplings were almost dwarfed against the far larger trunks surrounding them, and the canopy was thin enough that a riot of berry bushes and meadow grasses were flourishing in the unusual abundance of direct sunlight. 

Jack could see why his mother would decide to make a temporary shelter nearby, the unusually thick undergrowth in this patch of the forest would provide good cover for getting unseen to and from the Oak's hollow. With only Mom and Flee coming and going there was no real chance of even another clansman finding them, much less a plains-blind Imperii.

Though...Jack cast another quick glance back at the very bright, very noticeable wings on his back. They were easier to miss folded back like this, but they still weren't exactly well-camouflaged. He'd have to be careful not to give his position away. In fact, once he found Mom and Flee he might have to take to the treetops. Even clansmen didn't usually look up, and Jack was the most talented branch-runner they'd had in ages. 

Doing his best to keep low Jack made his way silently through the trees, carefully examining the undergrowth for the subtle signs that would have been left by his mother and sister passing through regularly. As he went he absently took note of how uniform the divide between the older and younger trees was. It probably used to be a maintained clearing or grove a long time ago. Maybe an old druid grove? It had been a long time since a druid had lived in this part of the forest and even Jack's mother had never met one, but old man Erek said that in his fathers time there used to be a dryads grove nearby where druids often lingered. Maybe this was it. That might even explain how awake that oak had been.

It took him longer than he expected to work his way through the thicker undergrowth. As time passed he kept moving slower, looking harder, but he couldn't find anymore sign of Mom and Flee than he had before. There was an awful heaviness growing in his chest that was getting harder and harder to dismiss. By the time he started nearing the far edge of the new growth he was feeling almost nauseous with it. He tried to distract himself from it by focusing even harder on the undergrowth around him. It was odd because even though he could see that he was drawing closer to older growth tree again the grasses were getting even higher, almost up to his shoulders if he were standing, and there were little stands of reeds starting to pop up around him.

And then he broke out unexpectedly onto the banks of a pond. He stilled. He was pretty sure he knew where all the fresh water sources in their part of the forest were, and even if this place used to be a sacred grove there was no way the clan would have let a pond like this lie unused. There wasn't even any pond-scum floating in it. 

Almost entranced he started around the edges of it, being careful to watch where he placed his feet as he went. It wouldn't do to fall in with a couple of unfamiliar limbs on his back that might very well drag him down. He hadn't been walking long when he ran across a willow right on the edge of the water, its long branches trailing down to kiss the surface.

Jack smiled up at it. Willows were Mom's favorite tree with their whispering leaves and pain-relieving bark. Anytime she passed one in the forest she'd stop to say hello and pat its trunk for luck. With this here of course he hadn't seen any other trail signs. Mom would have known he'd come here as soon as he saw this, so why take chances leaving messages where he might miss them when she could leave them where he'd already know to look?

Jack ducked hurriedly through the swaying curtain of willow leaves and all but scampered up to the trunk. Pressing a hand to the wood he sent it a habitual polite ripple of greeting and started to circle the trunk in search of his mothers trail signs, trailing one hand over the rough surface as he waited for the tree to process the greeting and make its own ponderous response.

A quarter of the way around the trunk he felt a barely there hum of magic beneath his fingers. It was so soft he almost missed it, and he felt his gut tighten again. For the trail signs to be this lightly etched, for his mother to be this cautious of being tracked by outsiders...the attack must have been even worse than he remembered. Bringing his other hand to the trunk and positioning them both so that they rested on either side of the hidden mark, he fed it a delicate thread of his own magic. 

For an instant the sign flickered at his touch, as if even the thinnest tendril of his magic was too much to bear and it might gutter out beneath the strain. Then it caught, drawing on the bit of strength he fed it, and soon enough a gentle lilac runemark emerged on the weathered bark. Jack stared uncomprehendingly. He squeezed his eyes shut so hard that multicolored sparks burst across his vision, and then blinked his eyes open. The mark was still there; gentle, barely present, and damning.

The Naming runemark. The one his mother had drawn when she first found out she was carrying him, where she'd named him before magic and all their ancestors as a baby. Where he'd watched her do the same for Flee when he wasn't even tall enough to reach the rune himself yet without someone holding him up. 

For as long as he could remember that runemark had been blindingly strong, linking the three of them together and glowing like a warm star on the bark of the willow his mother liked to sit under to do her needlework and carving in the warmer seasons. And even now, dim and weak, with nothing but a faded echo of his mothers magic answering his own, it was impossible to mistake. 

Jack yanked back from the willow as if he'd been burned. Abandoning any pretense at stealth, he crashed through the curtain of drooping branches to stare with new eyes at the strangely distinct patch of newer growth sheltered among older forest. It still looked foreign, and there was a large part of his mind insisting that it wasn't possible but-

But the harder he looked the more he saw the signs. An overgrown stand of fruit trees, both familiar and bizarre in the clearly planned mix of apple, pear, and peach. Just over there, where the storehouse ought to be, he could see the more than half collapsed corner of what might have been a building once, it's wood grayed and long since weathered to the point of fragility. They were only the barest of traces, things he'd never have noticed if he hadn't been looking for them. But the Naming runemark was damning.

Jack sat down hard, barely aware of the discomfort of his wings twisting awkwardly beneath him. Feeling oddly distant from himself he flung raw magic out around him like a net, searching for any trace of Flee or his mother. It was a wildly reckless move, spending a ridiculous amount of his strength to search even a small area, but he'd never cared less. Nothing but the Naming runemark answered him. He cast the net further. Nothing. 

Jackson sat there pouring out magic like water until his vision blurred and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat and ears. He only stopped because if he passed out he wouldn't be able to hear or see Mom and Flee when they came back for him. He sat there, staring silently out over the pond towards the once ~~village~~ clearing until long after the sun had set. 

Behind him, beyond the willow leaves, he could feel the runemark still glowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm pretty sure the formatting got weird when I copied this over to ao3, and I should probably have waited until morning to go over this again to make sure it made sense. But. Last time I did that my computer ate it so YEET.


End file.
